Monday, 28 January 2013



LETTER FROM ABRAHAM LINCOLN TO HIS SON’S TEACHER
He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, all men are true. But for every scoundrel there is a hero; that for every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader.
Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend.
Teach him that a dollar earned is far more value than five dollars found.
Teach him to learn to lose and also to enjoy winning.
Steer him away from envy, if you can.
Teach him the secret of quiet laughter.
Teacher him the wonder of books; but also give quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and flowers on a green hillside.
In school, teach him it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat.
Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone tells him they were wrong.
Teach him to be gentle with gentle people, and though with though people.
Try to give him the strength no to follow the crowd when everyone is getting to the band wagon.
Teach him to listen to all men, but teach him also to filter all and take on a screen of truth and take only the good that comes through.
Teach him to laugh when he is sad.
Teach him there is no shame in tears.
Teach him to close his ears to howling mob; and to stand and fifth if he thinks he’s right.
Teach him gently, but do not cuddle him, because only they test of fire makes fine steel.
Let him have the courage to be impatient, let have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always to have sublime faith in his creator and faith in himself too, because then will always have faith in mankind.
This is a big order, but please see what you can do.
He is such a fine little fellow, my son:
Abraham Lincoln

Monday, 21 January 2013

STANDING BY THE GRAVE SITE



STANDING BY THE GRAVE SITE
It has been over thirteen years now
I couldn’t resist the obligation then
A son been obligation to be there
Dust to dust for a man I looked up to

Last week I was again obligated
To strand beside a friend in grief
Earth to earth to a brother so loved
The song of weeping filled the air

Standing by the grave site
Once again am faced with reality
A reality I live with but not by
Soldiers we have lost along the way

Very soon I’ll come visit you in at school
Was the last word he said to me
But never kept those word to me
Much later I was called to cast earth on him

Timothy was yet another good soldier
He never looked like he was go early
He always planned to travel abroad
But a place broader took hold of him

Tell Kikelomo that I still don’t understand
You gave everything to be one of the best
The best my department produced in 2004
Died a day after you collected your result

I was the last to see Banjo that night
He came by the office to get his sweater
On that cold night but never returned
My heart bled so much when I was told

Reminiscing, tears in my eyes and my heart
As I write these lines without poetic mastery
The list goes on but at this point says no more
Rest in peace Dubeim Sunre O!

Oluwole Ayinla (Mc.Smatt). January, 2012